At the end of January, the beginning of February, the spring breeze grew increasingly gentle.
The vast land of North China was finally shrouded in a layer of green.
Amidst this green, countless refugees staggered forward.
These people, carrying their families along, were dressed in rags with disheveled hair and dirty faces, yet their spirits appeared relatively good, with hope glowing in their eyes.
Among them was a woman holding a little girl, her expression weary but her steps still firm.
"Mother, I'm hungry," the little girl murmured while leaning against the woman's shoulder.
The woman patted her gently.
"We're almost there. Once we pass Junzi Pass, we'll be able to eat, rest, and settle down," she said.
The little girl didn't fuss and simply nodded.
"Miss Jun said that everything will be better once we cross Junzi Pass," she said.
Thinking of Miss Jun, the woman recalled that warm bowl of porridge. It was precisely this porridge that had sustained the mother and daughter throughout the journey, filling her heart with a comforting warmth.
"Yes, Miss Jun doesn't lie," the woman affirmed.
As her words fell, a burst of cheers erupted ahead. The woman immediately looked forward and saw the refugees, who had been staggering along, suddenly rushing ahead. A city loomed faintly in the distance.
It's here!
It's here!
The woman couldn't help but start running while clutching her child.
Across the wilderness, everyone was shouting and sprinting, while the city gates ahead swung open wide as a team of government soldiers rode out swiftly.
Seeing the government soldiers, the rushing refugees hesitated, stopping in fear.
Would they be prevented from entering the city?
In their doubt, the leading soldier already raised his hand, pointing back as he spoke.
"Enter the city and turn right — there's a porridge distribution center," he shouted.
The refugees rejoiced immediately. Some knelt to bow, while many others quickened their pace, surging into the city.
The group of soldiers pressed forward without pause until they spotted a carriage surrounded by over a dozen government soldiers. Dismounting swiftly, Tian Yao stepped forward to greet its occupant.
"Madam Yu," he addressed.
Madam Yu lifted the curtain of her carriage and nodded toward him.
"This is excellent. You've finally arrived," Lord Tian exclaimed with joy, his voice tinged with emotion. "As long as you are safe, that is what matters most, Madam."
Madam Yu offered a faint smile.
"Most of Bazhou's populace has arrived," she remarked. "Have we accounted for the number yet?"
Tian Yao nodded hurriedly, taking out a ledger he carried with him.
"As of yesterday, there are about three hundred thousand people who've entered Hejian Prefecture," he answered while glancing at the refugees still limping along in the distance. "We'll have the precise numbers by tomorrow."
Madam Yu nodded in agreement.
"Hejian must be struggling; handling such an influx of people is a heavy burden," she noted.
Tian Yao shook his head, his expression earnest.
"Our struggles are insignificant," he said, "and besides, many of the refugees have already moved further south. For now, we're managing."
Madam Yu nodded once more.
"That's good to hear," she said.
"Madam, please enter the city," Tian Yao urged. "There's good news — the Lord Heir in Shenzhou has escorted nearly one hundred thousand refugees back, and the numbers are still increasing. He has now headed towards Xiongzhou with his men."
This was truly exceptional news. Madam Yu nodded with a trace of a smile.
Tian Yao hesitated momentarily before speaking again.
"And the bad news?" Madam Yu asked, noting his reluctance directly.
Tian Yao lowered his head.
"There's still no word from the Duke of Chengguo," he admitted softly.
Liang Chengdong's hand clenched involuntarily.
To be precise, there had been no news about the Duke of Chengguo for over half a month.
Since the Duke led troops past Juma River to launch a surprise attack on Yizhou, no further updates had come.
"The Jurchen people haven't crossed the border, which means the Duke's threat hasn't been eliminated yet. This implies the Duke and his army are still alive," Madam Yu stated.
But so what? The key point was that the Jurchen people surrounded the Duke, and he had no reinforcements.
Tian Yao raised his head, his expression grave.
"We've petitioned the dynasty and requested all three armies as well as reinforcements from Daming Prefecture to move northward," he said.
Liang Chengdong's expression turned slightly sardonic.
That was impossible. Negotiations had already been made, and besides, the Daming troops were under Uncle Qinghe's control.
Uncle Qinghe likely preferred the Duke of Chengguo to perish here.
Madam Yu remained calm, showing neither sorrow nor resentment, and refrained from making a scene.
"Thank you, Lord Tian," she replied sincerely and graciously.
........................…
Within Xiongzhou, after several spring rains, river water surged, but it did not hinder people from crossing.
The water churned as a group of refugees fearlessly waded through it.
Carrying children, clutching walking sticks, supporting each other — even as the river soaked their clothes, they pushed onward.
A crowd surged past the river, and behind them, rows of soldiers stood tall on horseback, waiting until the last refugee had crossed.
The refugees paused after crossing, turning back to look at the soldiers and horses still stationed on the riverbank.
"Go on ahead," a general called out, waving them onward. "Further ahead is Suning Village. Once you're there, you'll be safe."
Suddenly, an elder collapsed to his knees.
"Thank you, soldiers," he shouted, bowing his head.
In an instant, the crowd followed suit, dropping to their knees.
"Thank you, soldiers."
"Thank you, Lord Heir."
"Thank you, Duke of Chengguo."
A cacophony of gratitude echoed across the river's opposite bank.
Watching the refugees, Zhu Zan — standing amidst the soldiers, lost in thought — turned his gaze toward them.
"Alright, enough with the rambling. What's the point?" he said impatiently. Then, spinning his horse around, he rode away.
The soldiers immediately followed suit, turning their horses as well.
Listening to the sound of hooves and watching the army ride north, the refugees finally stood up.
"The soldiers aren't crossing the river with us," a refugee murmured, tears glinting in his eyes. "They're going to save more people."
Despite his long-standing attempts to deter Zhu Zan's actions, the Message Soldier continued to follow to this point.
Now, he spurred his horse forward once more.
"Lord Heir, it's time to return. Most of the refugees have left — this area no longer falls under our control," he said.
Zhu Zan laughed heartily.
"So laughable," he said.
What was laughable?
The land they had protected for ten years had suddenly become someone else's.
The Message Soldier fell silent for a moment.
"My meaning is that the Jurchen people are growing in number," he continued. "Lord Heir, you've done enough. You can leave now."
Once again, Zhu Zan laughed heartily.
"Indeed, I've done enough; no disgrace in that," he said, his gaze fixed ahead. "Now, I can meet my father."
Meet his father? The Duke of Chengguo?
The Message Soldier hesitated, his shock deepening.
"Lord Heir, are you heading to Yizhou?" he shouted. "That's impossible!"
That was true Jurchen territory, flanked by both wings of tens of thousands of soldiers. And Zhu Zan's forces...
The Message Soldier turned back to look — at most, there were only a thousand troops.
This was a death sentence.
"Lord Heir, we should go back and request reinforcements," the Message Soldier urged anxiously. "You've rescued so many refugees; the officials will surely recognize your achievements."
Once again, Zhu Zan burst into laughter.
"Reinforcements," he said. "If reinforcements had come earlier, would it be like this now?"
With that, he urged his horse forward at a gallop.
The Message Soldier fell behind, staring at the rapidly moving figure ahead, feeling a pang of sorrow.
"Lord Heir..." he began. However, just then, flames erupted ahead.
Seeing the blaze, the Message Soldier's expression changed drastically, while the galloping troop paused in alarm.
"Lord Heir…" the Message Soldier murmured. "The way ahead is already swarming with Jurchen forces. It's impassable."
If they had tried a few days earlier, it might have been possible.
But now... it was too late.
A horse neighed sharply as Zhu Zan jerked his reins, turning abruptly to face forward. The veins in his hand bulged as he gripped tightly.
Impossible to rescue, was it truly impossible?
.............................
"Stop," Madam Yu suddenly instructed, lifting her carriage curtain.
The carriage, which had been nearing the city gate, came to a halt. Liang Chengdong hurriedly stepped forward to inquire.
"Why hasn't Miss Jun and her forces arrived yet?" Madam Yu asked.
Miss Jun had been stationed on Bazhou's border, holding back the southward advance of the Jurchen forces to ensure the refugees' safe evacuation. Three days earlier, Bazhou's refugees had fully retreated.
"They're withdrawing now and sweeping through the territory to make sure no civilians have been overlooked," Liang Chengdong replied.
"That is indeed the case," Tian Yao confirmed. "The troops are retreating."
Beyond the initial three thousand soldiers of the Changfeng Army, Hejian Prefecture's Shun'an Army had dispatched an additional five thousand troops to Bazhou.
All of these forces, naturally, fell under Hejian Prefecture's command.
Madam Yu nodded, but her expression still carried an inexplicable unease.
"But isn't their pace rather slow?" she remarked. "At this point, they should already be back."
She lifted her gaze toward the distance.
Why were they moving so sluggishly?